Dystonia and childhood trauma

Childhood trauma, developmental trauma, complex PTSD (C-PTSD), and adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) are different ways to describe the kinds of psychological injuries that can prevent our nervous systems from staying regulated consistently—and can contribute meaningfully to the development and persistence of dystonia.

If you follow the Hope for Dystonia knowledge base, you already know that dystonia is a complex, emergent phenomenon: it is born out of the interaction of multiple causal co-factors, which lead the body and psyche to organize themselves according to a new pattern, of which dystonia is but the most evident manifestation. 

Physical injuries or anatomical imbalances such as temporomandibular joint (TMJ) misalignment are just one of many potential contributors. Psychological trauma plays a fundamental role as well. It might be a single overwhelming event, or—as is often the case—an ongoing pattern of relational or emotional neglect during key developmental years.

Many people affected by developmental trauma don’t recognize it. They may describe their childhood as "normal," even "happy," and their parents as "doing their best." All of that can be true—and yet our nervous systems may still have grown in conditions that lacked consistent safety, attunement, or emotional availability. Those unmet needs affect how our brains and bodies wire themselves to survive.

Much of our nervous system development is shaped through our early attachment experiences. If we’re met with responsiveness, attunement, and emotional safety, we develop secure attachment. That gives us a nervous system with a flexible range—the capacity to move in and out of sympathetic and parasympathetic states without getting stuck. We learn to feel safe in our bodies. We develop self-worth. We know where we end and others begin.

But when early caregiving is inconsistent, intrusive, or emotionally unavailable, we may develop insecure patterns of attachment: anxious, avoidant, or disorganized. In those cases, the developing nervous system is forced outside its window of tolerance again and again. The resulting dysregulation becomes not a moment—but a baseline. Over time, that baseline may become the foundation for chronic tension, dysautonomia, and in some cases, movement disorders.

To make this more tangible, let’s consider Nathan.

Nathan grew up with a narcissistic mother and a father who enabled her. His mother could not consistently attune to him. Instead, Nathan lived in hypervigilance—constantly scanning for her moods, adjusting his behavior to preserve peace and maintain some illusion of safety. He learned early that his own needs had to be buried if he wanted love or connection.

As an adult, Nathan had low self-esteem, struggled with boundaries, and found himself in a pattern of toxic relationships. He also lived with persistent muscle tension, especially around the jaw and neck. When he lost his long-term job, the strain became unbearable. His teeth grinding worsened. His TMJ began clicking audibly. His right neck became so tight he could barely turn his head. Eventually, he received a diagnosis: dystonia.

What caused Nathan’s dystonia? Was it the trauma? The TMJ misalignment? The job loss? The answer, of course, is all of it—interwoven, cumulative, and adaptive in their own way.

Nathan began the Eight Steps of the Hope for Dystonia Recovery Roadmap. He started with foundational sessions to feel into his cranial nerve engagement: which ones were overactive, which ones neglected. He practiced letting go of overused pathways and awakening dormant ones. He began to experience moments of ease, even joy.

But something deeper needed tending. Through our work, Nathan began regulating his nervous system and gently engaging the process of attachment repair—a core element of this recovery model. He reconnected with the parts of himself that had never been fully seen, heard, or held. With spiritual guidance and practices that emphasized safety, attunement, and self-trust, his system slowly began to reorganize.

Along the way, in legally sanctioned settings and with appropriate medical support, Nathan used a few well-timed psilocybin journeys to enhance neuroplasticity and integration. A skilled, humble dentist created a custom TMJ appliance that respected Nathan’s embodied input—rather than overriding it. (For more on this, see "TMJ and dystonia: what you need to know.")

Over time, his symptoms softened. His posture became more fluid. His nervous system more resilient. And beyond that—Nathan became more himself. He wasn’t just free of the symptoms. He was free to live without bending himself out of shape just to feel safe.

Nathan’s story is not fiction. It echoes my own path, and the paths of many Hope for Dystonia clients. It could become yours.

If you feel resonance here, I invite you to take the next step and book a consultation.

With warmth,

Fede

Hope for Dystonia

Disclaimer: Hope for Dystonia offers coaching and spiritual mentorship. We do not provide medical or psychotherapy services and do not claim to diagnose, treat, or cure any disease or disorder. All references to psychedelics refer solely to use in jurisdictions where legal and with appropriate medical support. Nothing in this article constitutes medical advice. Please consult with your healthcare providers regarding any medical or mental health concerns.